The alarm went off at 4:45am and I reluctantly peeled myself out of bed and went downstairs to prepare for the day. I was scheduled to patrol at White Pass today, and knew it was going to be frigid. When I went online to NWAC and checked the telemetry, I instantly felt like going right back to bed and forgetting what I saw.
-16F with sustained winds of 20 mph, gusting to 30. Hmm, that's gonna leave a mark. Let's check the wind chill charts. Negative 43 degrees, sustained. It was so cold that both Fahrenheit and Celsius were pretty much equal. I sent a few messages to the usual suspects, and thought twice, three maybe even four times about heading up to the mountain. If I don't go, that's one less patroller on the mountain to help patients. I signed up for this, so I'm gonna have to go see just how cold it really is.
The lift rides up to the top of Base 3 (Couloir Chair at 6,500') were bitter cold. Colder than I've ever experienced anywhere in my life. Just last season, we rode in -35F wind chills up at Schweitzer Mountain in Idaho, but those temps were influenced mostly by wind because the ambient temperature was -5F, and if you moved into protected areas, it wasn't that bad. This, however, with ambient temperatures more than 10 degrees colder, was something totally and utterly different. I've stood on the frozen shoreline of Lake Erie on a bitter January night, and those winds were cold, too...but this was on a whole other level.
The hearty patrons who came up and skied in these conditions were treated to fresh snow and very very light powder. But you could only manage one, maybe two runs at most before having to come in and warm up. We only had a couple hundred patrons who showed up, and it was one of those shared experiences where the camraderie was high, and the hot chocolate and coffee was flowing.
The consistent breeze was moving snow around, in and out of the trees, and there was a "lid" on top of everything. The pressure system that caused these temperatures and pass-level winds was very visible, with a dull, steel blue-gray cloud layer that stayed in place over the terrain. Judging from the view of Tahoma, it appeared that the bottom of this lid was around 14,000'. Then there was a secondary surface fog that hung around right at 5,500' or so. But it wasn't a calm fog like one can find on a cold morning, it was actually frozen particles moving at the speed of the sustained winds, right at pass level. The particles stung through facemask layers, and added an audible soundtrack to the weather.
The pictures above show this all pretty clearly: It was frigid cold, like the kind of cold that only true hearty sould venture into.
It stayed cold like this the entire day, too. It "warmed" up three degrees to -13F but the winds actually increased, so the conditions persisted. Everything crunched underfoot, and the groomed trails squeaked like styrofoam as we made our way down the runs. Thankfully, there were very minor injuries throughout the day, as the patrons understood the assignment: this was not a day to push limits. This was a day to simply survive and record an experience you'll never forget.
Speaking of surviving, I got stuck on our Chair 5 for several minutes, and it was almost unbearable from the start. I was actually panicking, thinking "this could turn out really bad". Luckily, our crack LiftOps & Mechanics got the chair going again and I was able to get back to High Camp and warm up.
I learned a valuable lesson today as well: you can get dehydrated quickly in these types of temps. You may think that being bundled up wouldn't allow that, but I can confirm that as the day wore on, I felt the effects of the cold on my fluid levels and my overall energy. I was parched, even though I was drinking hot chocolate and decaf coffee throughout the day, plus refilling and sipping from my water bottle. It's almost as if that cold just sucks the water right out of you, much like a desert would.
I'll never forget this day, for the experience taught me a lot about myself and how strong a show Mother Nature can put on for us all. It was a hoot spending time with the other patrollers, the White Pass crew and WP family up there on a day where most mortals would have rolled back over and stayed at home. Being in the mountains is a choice, and being in the mountains when it's a frigid like this is more like an addiction.
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Thanks for reading! Hope to see you out there. --BJ
